Black Heart Woman
by muppetmadness
Summary: I confess myself not a romantic man, but she brought out things in me I never knew were there. Severus Snape never thought it possible he could love, until he met her. SSNM DG
1. Chapter 1

A/N This piece may confuse some of you; I will try to explain here.

The pieces in normal font are what are happening in the "present" day i.e. after the war.

The pieces in bold are Snape's collected memories/recollections/thoughts of the past.

The pieces in italics are snippets of one scene which will become increasingly noteworthy as time goes on.

Disclaimer: I own nothing except for… well yer… nothing.

SSNM

I confess myself not a romantic man. Where others take comfort in one or another dispensable hussy I retire to my books and scrolls, frowning at the light penetrating in crackling neon flashes from the muggle side of my Leaky Cauldron single room.

As bachelors go, I am not a very eligible one. I have not a large fortune to speak of and no great title to proceed me, indeed the gambling of my father has produced a fortune of debt and lifetime of enemies in both the muggle and magical world.

Nor am I particularly handsome; a nose which is rather too long and hooked, hair (which has thankfully not a single grey) but is somewhat neglected, long and shaggy in the most unappealing way for long and shaggy hair to be. Eyes which have seen too much and are tinted for it and pale skin from dislike of company and therefore lack of sunlight.

And the opinion of children alike only to the Wicked Witch of Hansel and Gretel fame... except the bit about them tasting good with potatoes; that, I confess, I have yet to try.

So, I put this question to you, how is it that I came to fall in love with a beautiful woman and, the puzzling thing, she with me?

I find my mind clouded with this thought among others of a similar nature. Perhaps this is merely an attempt to empty my head, sort my memories and clear my conscience. But if so I have yet to reap the rewards of my plight. But there is no doubt this has changed me. I have come to terms with everything that has happened and now I realise I _want_ people to know the truth at all costs. As one last tribute to her.

As I sit writing this I feel I should revise my first statement. I _was _not a romantic man. But she bought out things in me I never thought were there. Perhaps that being one of them.

SSNM

This has taken the better part of a decade to collect. Searching through old volumes, stealing memories and crossing over statements. Taking me thousands of miles from place to place. This project has consumed me, depriving me of sleep, food and company. Making itself the only thing present in my mind. But I never regretted it, not once. I did it for her. So people knew what really happened in the life of my flower.

SSNM

**Two young men, tall and handsome as young men go, stood in the middle of a large and rather expensive drawing room at the residence of Mr and Mrs Black.**

**The other two figures made present were somewhat stout and portly, with sombre expressions one is rather more familiar with at a funeral then in such a drawing room. But indeed, perhaps these expressions, had the men not entertained them on their faces since birth, were very appropriate for the occasion, if not the place, for the discussion in hand was not a light one. Indeed, the talk was on the subject of futures, not their own but their daughters, of which there was no sign, for these men were content to plot about such a mater without those it related to present.. This was indeed worthy of an expression of woe and discontent.**

**There had been a silence for sometime now when presently it was broken by the youngest man there, whose child had been born not a month before. This man, tall and handsome though he was, possessed the brain capacity of a teaspoon, which was unfortunate for, had he had a little more brains, allowing him the taxing ability to make decisions by himself, this whole unfortunate affair might have been avoided. Perhaps, then, everything would have turned out differently. As it stood, however, he was not only undeniably dim, but also dependant on the guidance of those all too self-important to have that kind of power. Guidance which refused to let him see his wife as the beautiful, charismatic and intelligent women that she was, and consequently resulted in the many affairs she was later famed for in the wizarding world. Maybe, if he had paid her as much attention as he did his egotistic mentors or paid as many compliments as he did galleon to his employees they would have become the perfect family he was always promised, instead of what happened in reality. But the past cannot be changed and the conversation developing is just one of many meetings to discuss the idea of arranged marriages between the Black's, Malfoy's and Lestranges. The triad of Dark families in the Wizarding world.**

**I would be lying o myself if I thought that the pureblood marriages taken place would be more or less difficult than those of half-blood or even muggle-wizard relation (my home-life being how it was). But the idea of my dear Narcissa being haggled over like a piece of dead meat while she was still unable to walk, chills my already considered heartless bones.**

**The things these partnerships were decided on were sick in themselves, but as I have already been told that was "how it was done".**

**And so commences the meeting that would change four children's fate. **

**Taken from the memories of the late Castor Lestrange on the 12th November.** **_Willingly_**

SSNM

Upon reaching the anniversary of the first month of my investigations, I will admit it became apparent I would need the assistance of my estranged Godson, Draco Malfoy-resident of room 114 in Azkaban's Death Eater Wing. However, the strictly regulated visiting rights prohibited the allowance of matters I had need to discuss. I am, however, and always will be a Slytherin and due to my sickeningly Gryffindorish role in the war I have enough influence to at least get some clue of what I need to know, and intend to use it.

Thanks to Harry-lived-more-times-than-is-humanely-possible-to-count-Potter, no Death eater was actually executed, but rather sentenced to a life sentence in Azkaban. This, in my opinion, is highly impractical as we still have to feed the bastards.

Thus I found myself stalking up and own a dingy waiting room, full of nothing but chilling air and haunting memories. Shaklebolt, who had been stationed in the prison since the escape attempt two years previously, looked at me through cold eyes, clicking his knuckles in what he obviously considered an intimidating manner. I rolled my eyes.

Most of the evidence against my being a Death Eater at the end of the War came from Dumbledore's portrait, which didn't seem to realise I had killed him. In Kingsley's opinion, that didn't count for much, which was good because Kingsley's opinion didn't mean much to me either.

Presently I was shown though into the visitation area. After the War, the dementors, feeling only for more souls, returned to the Ministry and were stationed back in Azkaban, much to the gratitude of the general public, who felt the prisoners deserved it. But, I must admit, having never visited Azkaban before this, I was beginning to feel no one deserved this.

Draco's childhood was something of a mystery to near everyone who met him. Only Pansy and Blaise, his two closest, knew the full truth. Before he came to Hogwarts I hadn't seen him since before the end of the First War, and didn't know what to expect. My mind half way between the reality of a cold, proud little boy and the ideal of a warm, loving child, it crushed me how much like his father he was.

That is until about a month into his first year, he was getting regular presents, treats from his parents he claimed. I knew Lucius and there was no way treats were going to be exchanged between them, _ever_. When he received a bottle along with the treats, I took it upon myself to find out what was going on, so I took a sample, and what I saw, what I found, still makes me cold with guilt. And I have never forgiven myself.

SSNM

Seven years old was a respectable age to meet one's future spouse. When children were seven they were old enough to be obedient without hesitation, innocent without complete naivety and were beginning to lose the unsavoury childish qualities of appearance.

"Getting along" was of little consequence, "friendship" was an impossible and highly unnecessary result and "love"? Well that was ac conclusion not to be spoken of. As far as anyone was concerned this was merely the first meeting in a long-term business transaction. Emotions were drawbacks, not aids and this was where the parents fell short. They couldn't control their aristocratically strong-willed and cultured children's opinions any more than they could the weather.

And the opinions of Narcissa Black were not good ones.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N OK Second chapter, reasonably quickly updated! You should be thankful this is happening! I usually don't update… EVER!... Oh yer and I own nothing… Except maybe Gloria… not that I'd want to :P

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**Silence rang, as it usually did, around the dining room.**

"**I said, I asked you to lay the table."**

**Sharply, Narcissa looked up, "I did!" she cried indignantly.**

"**Then where the bloody hell is the salt?" her father asked, eyes narrowing dangerously.**

**Narcissa looked at the ground again and whispered, "I forgot." **

"**Oh!" the woman next to her father cried, throwing her pale arms wildly in the air in a sarcastic manner. "Oh well that's alright then isn't it? Would you do this in your _mother's_ house?" her last two words were sneered.**

"**I did-", Narcissa started, but her father had banged his fork down onto his plate with a bone shattering clatter. Narcissa winced involuntarily. **

"**Well thank you _very_ much Narcissa, Gloria spends all day _slaving_ over this meal and _you_ just ruined it for everyone."**

**Getting up, he swiped his plate and that of his fiancé into his hand and left for the kitchen.**

**Gloria whipped her head around and spat viciously, "I hope you're happy with yourself!" before following him from the room.**

**The flame from the tea light flickered before her, mirroring the unspoken emotion in her grey eyes. Listening to the barely audible voices from the pther room she fought to keep her tears in. As the orange fire burned down the wax and wick she kept her eyes fixed on it, willing the destructive element to shine on, drowning out the rising shouts a wall away.**

"**Girl… too hard… burden… Narcissa... useless…"**

**Then, as quick as a snap of fingers, the fire snuffed out and with it, so did her embodied hope in its light. Chocking, her body wracked with inward sobs, she ran from the room and threw herself onto her bed.**

**SSNM**

That was one of the few moments I witnessed first hand of Cissa's home life. Why was I there at all? You ask. I am half blood, and though this bothers me little now, in my school days it was like a hated infection that no modern medicines could cure. I was a leper in a House of health, I craved acceptance, even if it was from the wrong people.

I hated my father for many things. One was being a muggle, I hated him more than anything; I was different because of him. I know, from that garbbled reasoning I should have hated my mother too, yet she was always the victim in my eyes, from my father's drunken rages about "that bloody House"; Cissa's house. He claimed to love my mother, yet me feared and resented magic. She should have been working in a muggle house, or bar or office, not as a housekeeper to one of the purest wizarding families in Europe. It was their wealth which made it bearable for him.

I didn't want to spend a minute with him; so, when I was younger, I would wither take the change from the top of the hallway cabinet and wander Diagon Alley (indeed, I had become such a regular on the Knight Bus they were beginning to offer me discounted rates), or I would go to my mother's work.

Black Hall was like a palace; a cold, draughty, bleak palace of infrequent visitors. Before Cissa's birth, before her parents divorce, there had been parties and festivities every weekend for the highest and finest of the wizarding world to attend. But now no one ever visited. My mother was overworked and underpaid. But she always let me come with her. The house still needed to be cleaned and organised but the workers were paid less on demand from Gloria; Cissa's stepmother.

It is true, what they say, about Butler's hearing everything. At least housekeeper's sons. The stable boys, who tended the horses for hunting and carriages (unlike the muggles at the time, cars and such were shunned by traditional methods of transport), complained endlessly. They didn't mind me coming to listen, in fact they relished it, having someone to moan to.

I find it strange how I managed to go nine years without laying eyes on Cissa. Up until she was six the guests were still coming round and I supposed she wasn't caught in the rush of preparation. But after three years of visits she never saw me, or at least, I never saw her.

SSNM

**She woke with someone stroking her hair and hushing her. Turning around, she wiped delicate fingers across her red and swollen eyes.**

"**Andie, I can't… I just can't… Andie wha- what?" she choked out her troubles.**

"**Hush Cissie, I'm only here for a day then I have to go back. But I'm here now." The tall brunette gently stroked her sister's light strands of hair.**

"**It's not fair, why couldn't I have been… why can't I stay with you and mum?"**

**Sighing, Andromeda replied with forced calm. "You know why, you're still going to have to marry Lucius, you need to-"**

"**I don't have to do anything! I hate him! He's an arrogant chauvinistic pig and I hate him!"**

"**Come on Narcissa, he can't be that bad. He's rich and all he other girls love him. When you go to Hogwarts and spend some time with him you're sure to get along better."**

**Cissa glared at her sister. "If you like him so much why don't you marry him?"**

"**You know I couldn't!"**

"**Oh yer? Why?" Narcissa spat viciously.**

**Andie looked sympathetic, "Because I'm a brunette."**

**Narcissa's face turned from anger to shock. "What?"**

"**Think about it! You're blonde, he is blonde, his whole family is blonde. Malfoy's have been pale and delicate, like you, since the beginning of time. You are their legacy!"**

"**No, that's not true! You're lying!"**

"**I wish I was."**

**SSNM**

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**A/N Mean right? Poor Cissa! And what about Sev, eh? **

**You know what to do! Review!!**


	3. Chapter 3

Just seeing what Azkaban had done to my godson made me cringe inside. His face was gaunt and his mercury eyes were sullen. There was little muscle on his meagre physique and his arms looked as if they would snap under the weight of his head, which he had rested neatly on top of them on the table.

His eyebrows rose as he saw me.

"How did you get clearance?" he asked hollowly, "I thought Death Eaters weren't allowed visitors."

To my surprise he spat out the words as if he despised the name and I found myself wondering, not for the first time, if St Mungo's had got it wrong. Perhaps they had one more patient than they should in their psychological ward.

Shaking off the thought I addressed him again, "I only came here to see if you could shed some light on the whereabouts of Miss Persephone Pallas."

That was my cover story. He was meant to stay quiet until Kingsley left and then I would reveal my hidden agenda. But that wasn't how it happened; he stayed quiet all right, but as soon as the Auror left he grabbed the front of my shirt and pulled me close.

"Don't you _dare_ go after her. Do you hear, Snape?" I blinked. He never called me Snape except with a "Professor" added in front at Hogwarts. It hurt.

"You tell them she died in the final battle. Or that she is one of those nameless mad cases in Mungo's."

I stiffened and he noticed it.

"What?"

"What?"

"That…flinch when I mentioned St Mungo's."

I swallowed hard. _Relax_, I told myself, there is no way he could know. He's been in Azkaban for two months and _she_ was admitted a day after he was sentenced.

"Just thinking about the poor souls put in there by the people in here." I answered coolly. That was true; _he_ had put her in here. And he obviously had no idea what she was saying about him. Otherwise he would have proclaimed his innocence long ago.

Draco seemed to except this and continued on his old trail of thought, "Why do they think I have anything to do with her anyway?"

Ah, the big question. How to explain that complicated set of events that lead to the greatest hostage escape from Death Eaters ever undertaken being part of a plan he had helped create. Better left unsaid for now.

"I understand you are concerned but I too understand her position."

"Do you?" Draco leaning in and growled at me, "Do you even think you can begin to understand .what she went through? Begin to contemplate what she went through?"

I stared back at him, rightly confused. Persephone had come from the same…_kind_ of family as I had. But she'd been taken to a loving family when she was around ten, which was more than could be said for me.

At least that was what I had been informed of. The more I looked into his cold steel eyes, the more I realised that wasn't necessarily the truth. Every word f it had been spoon fed to me by the Order. There it was again; the Order, full of people I had almost learned to trust. Now it seemed they had been lying to me, about a lot of things, too many important things.

I confess, looking into my Godson's haunted eyes, I felt like I should listen on, like I should hear him out, like there was something he would tell me that would fit into place, make everything come together. The illusive missing piece if you will.

I know now that I should have stayed. Listened and judged, but this information was all he had and in front of me was what it had done to him. Eaten him away, tearing him up on the inside and, selfish as it might seem, I was concerned for my own sanity should the truth be revealed.

This investigation was becoming dangerous.

And God's did that scare me.

It may have been apparent I needed Draco's help but I was definitely not ready for it. So I fled, I ran from the Past, the Lies… and my own Godson.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N A bit of a long one….**

**1) The school is based on our school Bromley High (shock-horror).**

**2) Specterra (the House) is based on my house/flat thingy. We have the middle floor of an Edwardian House, which I just found out is in a conservation area and most of the houses down our road are listed as historical interest. Ooo-la-la!**

**3) Bluewater is a real shopping centre (and it rocks!) all the shops mentioned are really there. It is either the biggest or second biggest centre in Europe! ****The centre comprises of 3 malls, each with different style and theme: **_**Thames Walk**_** is aimed at young people, complemented by **_**The Water Circus**_** with a 13 screen cinema and catering outlets, **_**The Guild Hall**_** is aimed at the designer goods market, and gives access to **_**The Village**_**, which has higher-end catering and outside dining areas, and **_**The Rose Gallery**_** has shops and food outlets more typical of a High Street.**** Visit it… shop in it… But **_**don't wear hoodies**_

I suppose you could sort out Draco's life into four categories.

1) Pre-Dumbledore's Death Phase. Complicated and emotional but set on a straight course, never really changing from the mould set out for him.

2) Post-Dumbledore's Death Phase. A turning point. A chance to decide his own fate.

3) Charlie Weasley Phase. The Dragon and the Dragon Tamer. Not nearly as homoerotic as it might sound. The first properly good and carefree time in his life. Introducing Ginny Weasley.

4) Murderer Phase. Why? Nobody knows. That's why he is here in Azkaban. And this is where he will stay.

To understand the position I am in now, you need to understand all of these "phases". The "Charlie Weasley Phase" is the best place to start. Everything else is muddled with lies. This I know is true. I got this straight from the Witness to it all.

_Persphone Pallas._

Charlie Weasley had, at the time, resigned from his job in Romania to arrest criminals for the British ministry. He was also a Member of the Order and therefore had a hidden agenda. Find out as much as possible from the suspects before they are taken into custody. By any means necessary.

At the point where we pick up this story he is covered in a Grade A invisibility cloak stalking Draco Malfoy with the newly designed 'Aura showers' (From the same company as the rare 'putter-outer', who are known for their self explanatory labelling and naming of products) in the hopes of catching him doing something illegal or associated with the Dark Arts.

Due to testimony by Harry Potter, Draco is not wanted for any charges in association with Dumbledore's Death. However the Ministry is keen to reel him in, even if it is only for information. And so is the Order.

Draco Malfoy is wholly unaware this stalking is happening and is currently walking down a corridor in a girl's school in Bromley, England, trying to find Persephone. With an invisibility charm on himself naturally.

Through the memory mirror I am using to view this humorous scene, I can see everyone, whereas Draco can only see Persephone, Charlie can see both Draco and Persephone (aided by his Aura-shower), yet believe neither can see him, and Persephone, for reason she will shortly disclose, can see everyone.

Draco reached out and tapped Sephy on the shoulder.

"It's me," he muttered in her ear, "Don't turn around."

She nodded slightly and kept walking. I could see Charlie looking around in wonder at the extravagant displays on the walls and, more often, at Draco. I knew what he must be thinking.

_Draco Malfoy shouldn't be in a muggle school. He hates muggles. Why, in Merlin's name is he t_alking_ to a muggle?!_

"Sephy!"" a voice called out from behind her and a tall girl with curly blonde hair ran towards them.

"Should I tell Carrie you're here?" Persephone hissed between her teeth at Draco.

"Bring her to the changing rooms and I'll explain there." He answered quickly and glanced around nervously.

"Sephy, look at this," Carrie said excitedly, waving a piece of paper at her, "You are now talking to the proud and slightly smug owner of an A piece of history coursework."

Sephy looked impatient, "Great. That's great Carrie, now come on!" She linked arms with the blonde-haired girl and swerved around to exit the building using the nearest door.

There was a thin mist in the air and clouds of swirling fog moved around their noses and mouths as they breathed. Sephy's eyes were fixed determinedly at the large, ugly, modern building ahead of them. On closer inspection there was a large stone carving on the all which read:

_Sports Hall dedicated to Headmistress Hancock 1997_

Draco showed his distaste by wrinkling up his nose at the sight of it.

"Where are we-" Carrie began, looking confused and somewhat worried at her friend's strange behaviour. Next second, realisation dawned on her face. "Where is he?" she asked quietly, even though there was no one around. Sephy pointed behind her without looking around.

Charlie Weasley looked very concerned. _Two_ muggle girls? I smirk. _If only he knew. And he soon would._

Presently they reached the brick monstrosity and Sephy tapped in the code on the crude manual locking system. 1-2-3 it was ludicrously simple. The inside was deserted and they made their way up the stairs to a small changing room area.

The lino floor was a sickly mix of green flecked with tan. Shiny benches of plastic wood gleamed under pegs of black metal pegs. It was worse than the outside.

At last Persephone turned around and her eyes widened.

"You didn't say Fruit-shoot was here too." And to everyone's confusion she looked straight at Weasley when she said this.

Draco froze.

"Weasley is here?"

Charlie froze.

Carrie was looking around frantically; "I don't see anybody!" she moaned and slumped down on one of the benches, picking at a ladder in her tights. Draco sighed and removed his invisibility charm.

"Much better," Carrie nodded in satisfaction, "Now what's all this about Fruit-shoot being here?"

Sephy turned from Draco (who was looking defeated and exasperated) to Charlie (who just looked plain shocked) and winced.

"I don't know him yet do I?" she asked, a pained expression on her face.

Draco shook his head.

"Umm…hello Charlie," she began sheepishly, "I call you Fruit-shoot, don't ask it's a long story, and I'll meet you for the first time in about two years or so. You can take the cloak off. We know you're here."

Charlie obeyed slowly, wand raised, waiting for Draco to make his move. The blonde wizard just stared at him.

"How did you see me?" Charlie asked. "This is a Grade A cloak. Nothing can see past this."

"I'm part faun." Sephy answered shortly, as if this piece of information was all he needed to understand. Evidently it was not enough because he still looked confused, maybe more so than before.

Sephy sighed, "You know! _A faun is outside the magical realm, it can see what no other can, Magick holds no sway to its Earthen bones, lest it be detected by the kingdom of Man_? How can you not know that?"

"So you have super-human senses?" Charlie asked slowly.

Sephy whacked her forehead in frustration, "No! Are you deaf? _'It_ can _see_ what no other can'. I can't _hear_ worth a damn. I swear you weren't this stupid when I first met you!"

Charlie shook his head and seemed to come to his senses, "Draco Xavier Malfoy-"

"Casta," Sephy provided, "You forgot Casta. And Memphis. It's actually Draco Casta-Memphis Xavier Malfoy. Which means, when you translate it: Dragon, Pure-Beauty, The New House, Bad Faith."

"It means a whole load of shit when you translate it," Draco hissed at Sephy.

"Alright!" Charlie raised his voice dangerously, "Draco Casta-Memphis Xavier Malfoy, I am arresting you on suspicion of being a Death Eater and consorting with-"

"Wait a minute." Carrie stood up suddenly, "What evidence have you got of that?"

Charlie faltered. "I was just called in to arrest him, not to know the details."

Draco remained silent but pulled back the sleeve of his jumper.

"See," Sephy pointed one hand on her hip, "No tattoo thingy."

"Dark Mark." Charlie and Draco said simultaneously. Both with the same tone of disgust.

Charlie looked surprised, "Look, Malfoy, I don't know what you're trying to pull here, but I have to arrest you. In the name of the Ministry of Magic."

Draco contemplated him slowly. If he was thinking what I would have been it was how to gain Charlie's trust. Apparently great Slytherins think alike.

"Since when do you care about the Ministry? You are a member of the Order of the Phoenix."

"How would you know that?"

"You were born on December 12th 1970."

"That doesn't prove-"

"You bought your brother Bill his Dragon fang earring a year before he actually got his ear pierced because you had a bet with your best friends he would get it one before he was sixteen."

"What-"

"Your favourite breed of Dragon is a Peruvian Vipertooth, but you settled with the Romanian breeds because your Mother would worry if you went half way across the world to study Dragons whose favourite snack was you." Draco smirked here at the expression of Charlie's face. "Your Boggart is being alone in a white, empty space because when you were seven you fell from the roof of your house. When you woke up you couldn't even remember who you were. The white space makes you think of those three weeks where there was nothing there. Everyone else thinks you are scared of being alone."

Charlie was shaking his head, "How do you know that? No one knows that!"

"if you'll listen t me," Draco threw his wand to Charlie, "Just listen, and I guarantee you won't want to arrest me any longer."

Charlie nodded, still in shock most likely, and Draco started his tale.

It was completely honest and he hardly ever held back. This was his last chance to clear his name. To see Ginny again. Yes, even then he thought of her, _had _thought of her since their separation after Dumbledore's death. Carrie and Sephy had been helping him open up and relate his experiences all that time for the moment when the Ministry would come for him. The others too- but I'm getting ahead of myself. He didn't just spill his life-story straight away. In fact he began by breathing slowly for a few minutes. Taking erratic breathes in an attempt to calm himself. This was his neck on the line and although he had retained the smirk and cold appearance, he had long since abandoned the Malfoy tactic of with holding emotions. It was much more useful to look ashamed or sad to the "Light side" than indifferent. They cared too much.

After a long time Sephy spoke, "Perhaps he can come back to the House? That's a good idea, I think. Get in familiar surroundings, get some tea on." She extended her hand so she was touching Charlie's shoulder and suddenly they had disappeared.

"Oh Merlin!" Draco sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and apparated out too.

Carrie, however, just stood. A shrill bell rang out into the silence.

"Good luck Swanie", she said quietly and walked down the stairs to her next class.


End file.
